This is the reason why I've been so lax updating 'Sixteen Again.' I have these momentary bouts of clarity and imagination as to how I want a story to go, the things I want to write and I find myself having to pen it down before I lose it all, and then having to write as much of it as I can before it all disappears in a puff of smoke.
Much of it, is short, which will probably be to all of yous' dismay. But it's a start and all things have to start somewhere don't they? Also, it's all from Maura's perspective, totally in the second person, starting from the moment she set eyes on Jane. It will consist of a brief look at what happens between them from that point on till their marriage/honeymoon. After that, it will switch back to third and you'll all go back to reading it in the present.
The first chapter is just something to whet your appetite with. I hope you all enjoy it, and would love to know what you think! Reviews as always are welcomed and appreciated.
And so it is with great pleasure that I present to you, the first of the ten chapters of the sequel to Post-Its. (Bit by bit, of course. I can't give it all to you at once, can I?) ;)
For it was not into my ear you whispered, but into my heart.
It was not my lips you kissed, but my soul
-Judy Garland-
Chapter 1
You wake. To the beginning of the sun's rays shining through that sliver of curtain and for a split second, you panic. Believing the last few days to have been but a dream. But then your head turns and your arm moves to see the indentation in the sheets, feeling the warmth that lingers. And you smile. As you remember her presence in your home that fateful night…
.
.
.
You see the note; it's stuck on the mirror of your dresser. You're not afraid, merely curious. After all, it's not the first you've found. You've been wondering when the next one would turn up. And, if you're being totally honest with yourself, looking forward to them. It gives you a sense of comfort, a sense of peace. It allows you to feel closer to Jane. But then your eyes fall on the words that read:
I love you
Be mine
Marry me.
And you can't help but change your line of thought that someone's playing some sort of cruel and twisted joke. Because those are the exact same words Jane used to propose. And it leaves you gasping for breath till you realize you're not alone.
It's the presence behind you, you feel first rather than hear.
You turn.
And you gasp.
And you think, perhaps you've had too much to drink...that the person standing in front of you is simple a hallucination, an image of what your mind wants but can't have...till you realize that the wine glass in your hand has gone untouched, the bottle downstairs just newly opened.
The figure comes closer, closing whatever distance there was between the two of you and you drink them in.
You take in the dark, loose curls, the lanky frame that's just a bit thinner than the last time you saw them, the high cheekbones, strong Italian features and last but not least, the smoldering dark eyes that you can't seem to tear yourself away from. You blink once. Twice. But no, they're still there in front of you.
You reach out a hand in affirmation, placing it exactly over the beating of her heart where you feel the gentle but definite thrum of a steady beat. And just like that, something within you snaps, and the tears spill over, and you throw yourself against her, your arms winding around her neck as she wraps her own arms round your waist, pulling you closer, a quiet "yes" rolling over like waves as you whisper it continuously against her neck, burying yourself deeper, breathing her in.
And just like that...
the piece of you that's been missing for the last five months, snaps back in to place.
.
.
.
You spend the next couple of days, just the two of you, basking in each other's presence. Re-acquainting yourself with her, and vice-versa; re-affirming that she's really there. There's nothing sexual about what the two of you share. There's intimacy for sure, but it's the emotional type. It's the joining of two souls, at peace at last.
And despite the lateness of the hour in which she has re-appeared, you don't sleep. You hold on to her, arms around her waist, legs tangled together, your head resting in its favorite place; the crook of her neck. And for hours, the two of you don't speak. You listen to her breath, feel her arms caress yours, pulling you closer.
And you sigh.
Because for the first time in months, you're home.
